Of Duels and Discoveries
by Miranda le Ginger
Summary: Dueling can lead to many things: possible death, a grand victory, and maybe even help you figure out if you are in love. Unsurprisingly, Isabela finds out the latter. Smooth sailing? Yeah, right...


Author's note: A one-shot that has been plaguing my mind for awhile; been working on it for a couple of days. A page and a half of this was even written while I was in vacation mode. Probably one of my favorite works to date. I hope everyone enjoys! Special thanks to the ever lovely and intriguing Raven Sinead, and the coolest DA fan ever, FenixV for their continued support. It means more than I can say, and I am grateful for you both. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nah, Dragon Age 2 and DA: O are **not** my property. Nor do I own the characters. If so, I would allow Morrigan to be with a girl or a guy, and my Warden would be with both Leliana and Morrigan. Hawke would also be with both Merrill and Isabela, since I can never make up my mind between the two.

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"You mean to tell me that this is all your fucking fault?" Hawke shouted, blue eyes blazing with rage. Isabela winced, shrugging her shoulders somewhat sheepishly. "Well, when you look at it technically, then yes I guess it is my fault. But, the relic is priceless, Hawke! I am a smuggler, and a former pirate captain! What did you expect, kittens and rainbows?"

"No, I expected you to not be so foolish! Now, there are lives in danger! I have to protect our companions, Isabela, including you. And the people of Kirkwall…they look to me to be their protector. I have all this on my shoulders now; your mistake!"

Anger burned in chocolate eyes. "I did not do this to beleaguer you; I did not know you at all when I stole it! You knew who I was from the get-go, Hawke; quit acting like I have deceived you." "You did deceive me! All along, you knew the reason why the Arishok was here! You have let me walk around as blind as a newborn kitten, letting me play the diplomat while you are running around free as sin! Was your plan to just leave all along? You just think you could hop on your bloody ship, set sail and laugh while I clean up your mess, and possibly die trying? Is that all I am to you, a toy to be played then tossed away, slated for the trash?"

"Dammit, Hawke! Not everything is about you, I did not keep this a secret so you would get hurt. I am sorry you all got entangled with my business, but I will not apologize. I was clear with you from the start what I am about and you had the chance to turn tail and escape. But you didn't. You kept me around because I was useful, then because I kept your bed all warm and comfy for you. Is this the true reason why you are so angry, because I denied your offering of love?"

Hawke, normally pale, went as white as a sheet. Her ice blue eyes filled up with hurt at the words, which were quickly engulfed by a void of nothing. Her eyes were as cold and hard as stone. "You have made it plainly clear how you feel about me, and I hold no ideas to the contrary. There will never be an us, and I have accepted that. As for the relic…." Hawke looked to the roaring fir in the fireplace, getting lost in the flames and gathering the willpower for her next words. "Take the relic and run away."

Isabela did a double take, her arms falling from their folded position on her chest. "Wh-what? You want me to just take it…and go? Go…where, exactly?" Hawke steeled herself and looked into her love's eyes. "I want you to take the artifact and board your ship; go wherever you wish, just go far away from here and the Arishok." "But…what about you, and the rest?" Hawke's emotionless eyes stared forward. "Let me worry about that. You just make sure you escape before he gets his hands on you. Once you are gone, I can concentrate on dealing with him; I won't have to worry about protecting you."

Normally, the former pirate would scoff and deny that she needed protection, but this was Hawke. The woman was always acting like a guardian; it was going to get her killed one day. "Hawke, the Qunari are a formidable bunch; if you go in and try to battle them…" "Do not worry about me. I will deal with the matter at hand. Now, go before it is too late." Hawke turned her back on Isabela, once again gazing into the flames like they held the answers to the world, like why a woman who has lost so much already has to endure the pain of an unrequited love and then never seeing them again. But, it was the way it had to be. She was Champion of Kirkwall now; she had other people to consider. Her life, her happiness…it did not matter when compared against the greater good.

Isabela looked at the warrior's strong back, an indelible longing rising up inside her and lodging itself inside her chest. The thought of leaving, never again to see Hawke, made her feel emotions she never expected to feel again. She worried about the outcome her fleeing would have on the champion; what would the Arishok do? But she saw no other option. Hawke had made up her mind, and now she had to make hers. With one last yearning look at the woman who had crept unbidden into her heart, she turned and walked out of the door and Hawke's life as well.

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Hawke stood in her armor, sword and shield in the proper positions on her broad back. Her short dark hair blew gently in the breeze, and the scar across her face shone even more prominent in the light. She cut an impressive figure, commanding attention. However, the Arishok himself was not impressed. "Where is the relic? You said you would find it for me, human. Why do you come back and seek an audience with me…without the item?" Hawke 's blues bore into the Qunari's own. "Because, I am not giving it to you. The one who had it is no longer here, and I have no idea where she went."

"What?" the enraged Qunari leader bellowed loudly. "You let the relic, MY relic, get away from me by some…harlem?" Hawke stared unflinchingly at the fierce warrior, unfazed by his angry outburst. Did you not hear correctly? No, your precious relic is long gone. Figured sailing would suit it just fine. Better luck next time, my friend." The Arishok roared his displeasure, eyes glowing red-hot with fury and murderous intent. "You will regret your foolish decision, human. Your impertinence will be the end of you!" "Hmm, I have again seemed to piss off a powerful foe and placed myself in frightening danger and possibly a gruesome demise. I must be more charming and charismatic than I previously thought."

A grotesque and wholly unpleasant grin stretched across the veteran Qunari's face. "You think you are so clever and skilled in the art of warfare, don't you? Then, I challenge you to a duel. We shall see how long your tongue remains unchecked when embroiled in one-on-one combat against me. It will loosen with the sound of your begs before the ending blow is swung." Hawke cocked an eyebrow and adopted a surprised look. "Oh? The great and mighty Arishok deigns to fight a simple sword-swinger like myself? I am honored beyond words."

Though outwardly Hawke was unconcerned and comical, inside she was anything but. She was a skilled fighter; the perfect balance between strength and speed. But, the Arishok was a seasoned Qunari warrior; far stronger than Hawke was. The warrior was admittedly worried about her chances. But, Hawke did not have much of a choice, really. The Arishok would not leave until his relic was returned, and that could never happen. Even though Isabela had broken her heart, Claire Hawke would be damned if she let her love fall into the bastard Qunari's hands. So, a duel was the only conceivable way. "I accept your proposition. Now, I name my demands should victory fall into my favor."

The Arishok and his men snickered at the warrior's words. "Alright, human. Name your…demands. Though, they are futile." Blue eyes burned with a fierce light. "If I win the duel, you let my companions and myself walk away free and unscathed. You and your warriors will leave Kirkwall, and go back to your land; never again to walk in this place." "Fair enough. And, when I win, your life and that of your companions will be forfeit. After you lie slain and humiliated, I will claim this Kirkwall as my own, and track down that pirate bitch and slit her miserable throat, but not until she begs me for a quick death. You humans will know your place; below that of the Qunari."

Hawke laughed at the threatening words. "Big words, Qunari. You have not even won yet. I can assure you, I will not be as easy as your previous opponents." The other leader let out a harsh laugh, one that rumbled deep in his massive chest. "You are quite brave, human. That, or very foolish. You may be good compared to human standards, but you are no match for the strength of my kind. You will soon die, warrior. There is no shame in admitting defeat. Make peace; you will soon meet whatever God you worship." "Well said, Qunari. Such bravado and surety. I almost believe you myself. However, I have the one skill you do not possess: spirit. I have something worth fighting for and protecting, and in this I will not fail. So ready your blade; you are going to need everything you have to win this fight."

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The veteran Qunari nodded his consent and stood, lumbering over to a corner to ready himself and his blade. Hawke went to the opposite side, back to her companions. Aveline grabbed her by the armor; face tight with fear and voice urgent. "Hawke, you are a damn good fighter, better than most, but this is a bad idea. The Arishok…he is strong, stronger than you. His blade is large enough to cleave you in two! I know you want to protect Isabela and save Kirkwall, but this…this will not end well, I am afraid. It will be like trying to find a needle in a haystack; let him go after her. He will never be able to find her. She will be safe, and so will you."

Hawke stared at her friend. "I appreciate your concern, Aveline. You have been a good, honest woman ever since I have known you. Your help has been invaluable, and Donnic is one lucky man. But, I cannot heed your advice this time. I cannot betray Isabela, even if she has a high chance of escaping. She was my friend…and I-I love her. I will never give her up, and the Arishok will not leave without the relic. So, in order to keep everyone safe, I am eliminating the threat. Is it dangerous? Yes, of course. Most things I have encountered are. But I must do this. Please, let me go peacefully, with my head held high and my sword aloft."

Aveline searched Hawke's eyes, and slowly nodded acquiescence with a sigh. "Alright, Hawke. Fight and you better win dammit. Don't make me regret letting you go." The tall warrior agreed to her friend's wishes. Varric appeared at her side, holding Bianca tightly as if she would disappear any second. He opened his mouth, fumbled with what to say, the spoke. "You better put on a good fight now, you hear? Try not to get too bloodied up; you are going to have women clamoring at your door after they hear you have defeated a seasoned Qunari." Hawke grinned at her dwarven friend's half-hearted attempt at humor. "You bet. I would not want to deprive the fair maidens of their knight in shining armor. Don't know if you can carry my corpse away, anyhow." Varric nodded his head, and then shuffled over so Merrill could latch herself on the woman. "Oh Hawke! You are so brave! I know you will do good; you have to! Isabela would be sad if you are gone when she comes back. We would all be." Strong arms wrapped around Merrill's small waist, hugging the little Dalish elf fiercely against her. She did not have the heart to tell the elf that Isabela was not coming back…ever. She tightened her hold, pushing away the pain.

A pale, calloused hand gently grasped the lithe elf's cheek, brushing against the skin tenderly. "We can't have 'Bela sad now, can we? Or you; your face is too pretty to be sullied by tears. Now, let's see a smile, shall we? Mmm, there it is." The tough warrior smiled at the endearing elf. Glad to have brought a cute grin to her face. Merrill had always been a bright spot on an otherwise bleak and tragic life; Hawke could not help but wonder if she might have fallen in love with her if her heart was not already under Isabela's spell. She could be happy with her, she knew. The girl doted on her plenty. But, her path had been chosen long before. So, with another gentle smile and a warm gaze, she let go of her friend and stepped back.

Anders and Sebastian both had words to say as well; more comfort and promises and shows of faith, although the worry in their eyes showed the truth. She pacified them as best as she could, with humor and more false courage. Fenris, ever quiet, simply looked at her. Despite the absence of words, Hawke got the message loud and clear: fight, win, and, Andraste's tits, come back to us! A simple shake of her head mollified the elf somewhat. After conversing with her friends for possibly the final time, she headed to the starting point of the duel. She needed no practice, as her skill was already at its peak due to continuous usage. The Arishok took up position directly across from her, victory already alight in his eyes. He twirled his hefty blade in one hand, hungry for battle and blood. The surrounding Qunari bayed for her death, eager for violence.

Hawke slowly drew out her blade, given to her by her father before his passing. Her blue eyes gazed at her reflection on the silver blade, praying for strength and victory. There were many lives at stake; she could not afford to lose. _Isabela…how I wish things were different. I love you, my pirate. I hope you know that, wherever you are_. The blade rose up as her body fell into the customary stance. No words were needed at this point. She had forgone a helmet in order for more visual awareness, and all that protected her from the massive weapon opposite her was a slipshod set of armor, a heirloom sword, and a well-worn shield. _Maker help me_…. Then, the duel was on.

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Isabela stared at the slowly fading image of Kirkwall, her ship taking her far away from the place and the accursed Qunari chasing after her. _And farther from Hawke_….. She swallowed a lump in her throat, pushing back the burning sensation that was building behind her keen eyes. When Hawke had dismissed her from her quarters, the pirate quickly headed to her own room, packing up her things and rounding up her men. They had readied her ship and set off after her feet were firmly planted on the wooden planks of the deck. Hawke's words had hurt her, and running away was so very easy for the pirate. Far better than dealing with…feelings. The warrior had absolved Isabela from any guilt, and she was now free to roam the world on her ship, laden with her cargo, the same cargo that had started the whole mess. Amber eyes looked down at the relic that was secured in her hand. You would think she would be pleased at the outcome, but…she wasn't. All she felt was empty. Her former leader plagued her thoughts, clogging up her chest and throat. Hawke had said she would clean up the mess Isabela had made; the woman knew that meant the fighter would battle the Arishok, most likely in a duel.

Hawke was no slouch when it came to fighting, and she made even the best of knights appear as little more than children when compared to her skill. When she moved, it was like she was dancing. The movement of her blade and feet were graceful and flowed easily, magic in physical form. _"My father was a mage…although I was not born with magic like Bethany; I had a natural affinity for battle. I would practice with a crude wooden shield and an unsharpened dagger; afterwards I would upgrade to bigger and better weapons. I practiced for hours and hours, making sure I excelled at using every weapon I was given. My dream was to be a knight…a hero. I would make my parents proud, without needing magic."_

All the practice and rigorous training exercises had paid off. Few could match the woman, and even fewer dare try. But she was up against the Arishok, a cold-blooded Qunari warrior who had killed more men than Hawke could imagine. When faced with his size and experience…Isabela feared Hawke would not stand a chance. Her stomach churned and a wave of nausea overcame her senses. The thought of Hawke lying lifeless, never to talk again, or smile or fight…it just did not feel right. Hawke was young and had led a life of tragedy and hardship. She deserved to follow her dream; become a hero. Isabela knew, from the moment she laid eyes on the strong warrior in the Hanged Man many moons ago, that she would be a hero. Everything about her screamed the word.

Isabela thought about the Hero of Ferelden. She had met the Warden once, at a dingy little whorehouse called The Pearl back in Denerim, before she ever sailed away. Meeting the eventual savior of Ferelden had stuck with the pirate for years. Few could boast of seeing the woman, much less actually conversing with her. Reyn Cousland had been the very definition of nobility and Grey Wardens. The woman had been tall and beautiful, short red hair the color of the hottest of flames and blue-green eyes calm and warm. Isabela was used to looks of either distrust or lust. Reyn gave neither. She talked plainly and without judgement, and was surprisingly humorous. Though they only crossed paths once, it had a profound effect on her. She knew greatness when she saw it, and the Grey Warden was the epitome of all that was good in the world. When she got word of Reyn's death, her sacrifice in defeating the archdemon, Isabela had been affected quite hard. It had been a sad blow, but one that did not wholly surprise. Now, the only thing left of the hero was her legacy and the tales of the fiery-haired angel that still circulated today.

Hawke and Reyn were really a lot alike, when she thought about it. Both were of noble outlook, and were the kind of people to save lost puppies for their distraught owners. The two women were skilled, the light of the maker touching them and glowing behind their eyes. He blood of heroes flowed through both of their veins, and they were vessels for good to outshine the darkness threatening to blot out the land. Every time she looked at Hawke, Isabela saw a little of Reyn Cousland staring back, living on though the actions of a woman still alive. Hawke would save Kirkwall from itself, and possibly even Thedas one day. The noble woman was every bit of idol as the Hero of Ferelden was. But, now she was against a strong foe, and could very well die….

No, no no no! That absolutely could not happen! A world without Hawke was not worth living. It was barren and dull, devoid of warmth or…love. That's what she was feeling, wasn't it? The woman famous for fleeing the clutches of commitment had fallen hard for a warrior of the most caring disposition. This was all her fault; she could not make Hawke sacrifice herself all because of her greed. Dammit if the woman was not holding her heart in a rough hand, squeezing out her love. She knew now what had to be done.

"Turn the ship around! Blast it you daft fools! Turn her around!" Her men were confused at her command, but dutifully did her bidding. The ship headed back towards Kirkwall, the banner lifted high and adjacent to the mask. When the ship finally docked an eternity later, the pirate launched herself off the deck, sprinting down the walkway with the relic in tow. _Hold on, Hawke. I am coming for you. I will be damned if you take the fall for my transgression; I would rather be captured than see you hurt_. Her leather boots clanked against the wood as she made her way to the Qunari's hideaway.

She ran all the way there, ignoring the strain of her muscles and the sweat running down her face. She passed by the entrance into the Qunari headquarters, wondering at the loss of guards. Isabela delved deeper, noticing a close knit group all standing, eyes focused intently on something in the center. The sound of metal crashing against metal lifted to her ears; a tightening of her stomach followed. The duel had already started. Isabela moved closer, just enough so that she could see the fight but remained unseen from prying eyes. She knew a thing or two about the culture of the Qunari people; once a duel started, it could not be stopped. There were no forfeits or quitting involved. You either win…or you lose. If she announced her presence now, she would get nothing but a ticket to a jail cell, possible torture, and the loss of the relic, none of which would benefit Hawke in any way at this point of time. It was all up to Claire now.

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Claire dodged a swing from the deadly sword, dancing away from the Arishok on deft feet. She followed it up by swinging her own sword, nicking the Qunari leader on the shoulder. The cut was infinitesimal, but granted the human warrior first blood. The natural fighter tried to use her shield as a battering ram to get her opponent off-balance, but he was the Arishok for a reason. He maneuvered quickly out of the way, far faster than one would expect from his size, and blocked the blow with his own sword. A meaty fist shot out, clipping Hawke on the side of her head. The forceful hit caused her to take a step back and slightly lower her guard. She quickly regained her stance, but not before getting a shallow cut on a pale cheek. Blood dripped from the cut, staining the stone floor with tiny droplets. _When I said I would give my very blood to keep Kirkwall safe, I did not know it would be taken so literally_… the warrior let loose a small grin at the irony of her thoughts. Her foe stared at her curiously, wondering at the mirth he saw dancing in her eyes. Maybe the blow to her head had damaged her thought processes.

Claire's blue eyes locked with the dark pits staring right back at her. Both duelers knew that this battle would end in death. One of them would fall, never to swing a blade again. A lot was riding on the winner; Claire could not afford to screw this up. She settled her shoulders, gathering her psyche and rushing at her opponent, slashing out with Starfang. The giant was unprepared for the fierce assault and ended up with a deep gash in his side. He growled out in a fury, retaliating. Claire blocked it with her shield, the jolt jarring her arm. He swung again, and again. Hawke blocked desperately, arm becoming numb at the powerful swings.

Finally, the Qunari managed to hit her hard in the side with the flat of his weapon, possibly cracking her ribs. She took in gasping breaths, holding her side. Isabela covered her mouth with her hand, frightened beyond belief. She was not usually disturbed by fights like these, but seeing Hawke get hurt unsettled and terrified her. The pirate watched as the massive Asala came down, intent on cleaving Hawke in two. Miraculously, the warrior dodged to the side in a show of speed, away from harm's path. Sweat glistened on her pale features, and her eyes were tired. They had been sparring for awhile now, and her muscles ached terribly from holding her shield against the might of the Arishok. He was on the offensive, charging her. Hawke twirled around as gracefully as a dancer and plunged her blade into his shoulder. The stab was deep, and Hawke felt relief swirl through her. If she could land a few more like this, maybe she…

Distracted, she gave the wounded Arishok the perfect opportunity for revenge. He swung the sword in a vicious slash, carving a sizeable gash across her chest. The blade cut through the metal as if it were butter, opening her up to the elements. Pain exploded behind Hawke's eyes as her enemy doubled the attack with a closed fist, knocking her away. Her body crashed to the ground with a hard thud. She struggled to get to her feet, but another punch felled her. Again and again the Qunari kicked and punched her, beating the spirit out of her. She managed to strike him across the cheek, but it was feeble. He laughed hoarsely, slapping her hard, her head bouncing back on her shoulders.

He grabbed her breastplate, hoisting her up high. "You put up an admirable fight, human, but it was not enough. Enjoy your sleep." His hand closed around her throat, intent on squeezing every breath of life out of her until she was nothing more than a lifeless husk. Spots danced behind her eyes as her vision blurred in and out. Her hand scrambled against his own, trying to relieve the awful pressure. But she just did not have the strength. Her hand fell to her side as she dangled in a boneless heap, waiting for death to take her away on swift wings. _I am sorry, my friends…I have failed you. Isabela…I love you. Do not forget…me… _

Isabela watched in horror as the Arishok choked the life out of her warrior. She could hear her former companions crying out in distress, see Merrill bury her head against Varric's chest, hiding her face from what was to come. Tears ran down her own face, for the first time in a long while. In desperation, she called out, "Hawke! Don't you dare die! Don't you leave me! Hawke…I love you!" Hawke heard the words, as if in a dream. She recognized Isabela's sultry tones, although fear and regret shadowed her voice. _Love…Isabela…loves…me_? Hawke in truth believed it to be a dream, albeit a very good one. Isabela had left on her ship, she knew. She would not have come back and risked her life. It was a hallucination, brought on by the lack of air. But, Hawke gathered strength from the words. Dream or no, she had to fight. For friendship, for family…for love. Her hand grabbed her attacker, holding on hard. Her sword had dropped earlier, but she improvised. Her fist struck him squarely in the forehead. He dropped her with a howl.

Claire hit the ground, the wind whooshing out of her mouth. She stood up on unsteady feet, grabbing her fallen shield and slamming into the side of the Qunari. It was like hitting a mountain. The Arishok fell to the ground, Hawke following him. She crawled over to her sword, while the Arishok stood. He faced her, dark blood making a pool underneath his form. With a mighty war cry, he charged at the fallen warrior. Just as he was almost upon her, Hawke whiplashed to the side, Starfang piercing the Arishok in the chest. His dark eyes were full of disbelief a he stared at the human before him. He tried to speak, but only blood and strangled words came out. Hawke let go of the blade, and the Arishok fell backwards. His large body remained still, quite dead. Hawke slowly got to her feet, exultations and surprised exclamations zipping around her head.

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She stood defiantly in the center of the battlefield, armor dented and blood caked on her pale skin; many areas still flowed crimson. She wanted nothing more than to collapse where she stood, as her arms were heavy as lead and she could barely keep herself up under the weight of her armor. But she had to do something first. She faced the watching Qunari, looking deep into each and every eye. "I have won the duel, honored Qunari. Now, your Arishok is dead, and my demands must be met. My companions and I are granted safe passage, and you will be on your way. Agreed?" One of the Qunari stepped forward. "I am Darshet, the next in line to be Arishok. You have won the duel fairly, and as is our custom, we will talk of your bravery and honor for years to come. We will leave you in peace; the relic will not be pursued either. It has caused much trouble, and it is not worth it. Fare well, warrior. We will take our fallen and depart." True to their word, they started to move out, several of the higher-ranking men taking hold of the fallen leader.

Relieved now that she knew everybody was safe and Kirkwall was soon to be free of the Qunari presence, Hawke succumbed to her fatigue and wounds. Her body fell as if in slow motion, a resounding thud echoing as her armor-clad form got intimate with the hard ground. She heard shouts ringing out, filled with alarm. Her ears were fuzzy; where did the sound go? And...her vision…it is all...distorted…A warm hand pushed her on her back. Warm amber eyes stared at her, filled with concern and tears. Her mouth moved, but Claire could not hear the words. Hell, she could even believe the image, for the woman above her was Isabela. That could not be…she was miles away with the relic by now, surely? She could not actually be here right now, cradling her and talking to her rapidly losing conscious form. Because, if she was, that would mean…the words she spoke, the supposed dream…was real, and the pirate was actually in love...with her. _Ahhh hell_. Then everything burst into black.

"Shit shit shit. Hawke!" Isabela rushed to the fallen warrior, practically skidding to a stop on her knees. Ignoring the pain, she gently cradled the bruised and battered face in her palm, looking into the face that haunted her every thought. The normally mischievous blue eyes were clearly not lucid, and she was almost positive that Hawke could not hear a word of what she was saying. But, she did not care. She held the woman in her arms, whispering declarations of love, pleas for forgiveness, and great blubbery tears that would normally embarrass her, if she was not falling completely apart. Aveline walked quickly to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need to get her to her mansion, so we can ascertain her injuries. Merrill, Anders, we will need your expertise for this. Damn, I wish Bethany was here right now…" Isabela cringed at the thought of the other Hawke; the Grey Warden would surely have her breasts mounted for letting her beloved sister get hurt.

Fenris and Sebastian each took a hold of Hawke, situating her so she would rest somewhat comfortably and without too much jarring. The small contingent made haste to the massive Amell mansion, hopefully in time to save Hawke. Aveline burst through the doors, pointing to where the warrior's room was. Bodahn looked aghast when he took a good look at his master; he ran to get a boiling pot of water to aid in the healing. Fenris and Sebastian moved swiftly up the staircase, depositing Hawke gently on her bed. Anders and Merrill kicked everyone out, eager to start using magic on the broken body. Isabela stood outside the door, staring at the individual grains in the wood. Worry possessed her mind, and her restless body pulsed with energy. God, Hawke had to be alright; she just had to! She could not die, not now, not when Isabela had finally discovered that she was indeed in love with the noble swordswoman.

She was so near tears again; angrily, she swiped at her eyes. She felt a comforting hand take roost on her shaking shoulder. "Now now, Hawke will make it through. That girl has been through many a battle, and even when embroiled in tragedy and bloodshed, she has always managed to defy the Fates. She is as resilient as the Hero of Ferelden." The pirate smiled at Varric, finding a small amount of solace in his words. The dwarf really was a good man; it was a pity not everyone could see that. "Thank you, Varric. I-I needed to hear that. My emotions…they are just all over the place! I am worried for Hawke, and I feel no small amount of guilt; I-I truly do love her, and I am scared that I will lose her before we ever really began." "Oh, 'Bela, you had her before you were even aware. She loves you so strongly and fiercely, it rivals that of her own mother and sister. You are everything to her; just, please, do not break her heart again." "I swear on my life that I will never hurt her again. She deserves so much, and I will do my best to give her what she needs."

The dwarf nodded, patting her shoulder and gifting her a smile as he walked off. That left her staring at the same grain of wood…again. What seemed like a millennium later, the door finally creaked open, revealing Merrill's tired face. Anders joined her. "She is stable, now. It was touch and go for awhile, as her injuries were severe. She lost a good deal of blood, most notably from the gash to her chest. She is patched up and on her way to a full recovery. She will have a scar on her chest, though." Isabela sighed, a weight lifted off of her shoulders. "Can I-can I se her?" Anders eyes were kind as he looked upon her. "Yes, you may. Having you there beside her will hopefully kickstart her recovery, and I know it will ease your worry." She thanked the man and hugged the little Dalish elf, saying goodbye and closing the door behind her. She really needed to be nicer to the mage; Anders was a really great guy, when given the chance. Her eyes landed on the prone body, swathed in various bandages. She was topless, except for the bandage wrapped tightly across her chest and torso, and the bed sheet granting her a modicum of modesty.

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Her leather boots glided across the floor, careful to not make any loud noises. She took a seat by Hawke, grabbing one of the calloused hands resting on the bed. She drank in the sight before her, memorizing the beautiful face, still very much so despite the discoloration and marring. "I, I know you probably cannot hear me, and you will not answer. But, I am sorry. My actions put you in a danger, and now you are here…because of me. You were right that day; it is my fault. I cannot express how much I regret taking the blasted relic. It was not worth it, not when your life could have been the price to pay. Seeing you there, lying motionless after I witnessed that brute pummeling you…my heart stopped. Pain like I have never known seized me, and I knew I would never be happy again if you died.

For so long I have been afraid of love, of intimacy. I have had many partners, but almost all have stayed locked behind bedroom doors. I was not the stay-in-the-morning person. I got in, peddled my wares, and departed to the next stall. I was content on that, on doing that for the rest of my life. Then, you breezed in. You were so beautiful, and tall; gallant and noble. You were everything I said I did not want…but you were what I needed. When I was on my ship, sailing away with relic in hand, I thought of you. Never seeing your smile again, hear your voice…it was a far worse torture than any the Qunari could have thought up. I love you, I love you so very much that it terrifies and exhilarates me all in the same breath. Please, please come back to me so I can tell you in person."

"M-my, you certainly know how to charm a wounded soldier." The pirate's head shot up, eyes incredulous. "H-Hawke! You are awake!" "That I am, my dear rapscallion. Though I feel as though a Qunari has run me over…oh, wait, that did happen. Well, at least you can kiss them all better, huh?" Isabela shook her head bemusedly, amusement prickling her conscious. "You should still be unconscious, after the beating you took…" Hawke winked charmingly, although the other eye was swollen shut. "All part of the package. I am charming, skilled, and resilient. You can add it to the list of reasons to why you love me." Isabela blushed, her naturally dark skin darkening even further. "You..you heard all that, I take it?" "Mmm that I did. I also remember you screaming it while I was getting the air squished out of me by the Arishok. It is why I am still living."

Isabela blinked, confused. "You are still alive…because I said I love you?" "Love is the most powerful of cures, 'Bela. I could feel myself slipping away, heading towards the darkness that precedes death. But, when I heard your voice saying the very words I have longed to hear for years…it gave me the strength to push on. And when I was laying here, your voice drifted to me and made me get up. I love you, Isabela. I have for a long time. I would never leave without you by my side, even in death. I will always find you." Isabela tried to keep a sob in; she failed. A pale finger swiped at the water underneath her eye, brushing it off with the tenderest of touches. "Shh, don't cry love. I am fine, and I shall be up and slaying demons in no time. Everything is fine. Now, why don't you join me up here? This bed is far too big to lay in by oneself, and my health would be greatly improved with you by my side." Isabela smiled at her warrior, not surprised by her words. She gently climbed up beside the bedridden body, carefully laying so that her head was laying on the chest without causing pain.

Her arm wrapped around Hawke's waist, cocooning her in warmth. "There now, I am already feeling better. But, do y'know what would really help?" A quirked eyebrow. "A kiss, for the injured warrior. Better than a health poultice." Amused amber eyes rolled playfully. _Shoulda seen that one coming a mile away_. "Hmmm, well now, I cannot just let my poor, hurt warrior languish in her injury and overall misery can I? I suppose one little peck could not hurt." Their faces grew closer, until lips were almost touching. Breaths intermingled joyfully, like a soldier coming home from war to his beloved. Blue and brown mixed, drowning in feelings so intense as to be almost fictional. Finally, they conjoined. Twin moans coalesced, free from the warm confines of their respective mouths. Tongues did not need to come into play; the passion was there without the added push. A pale hand reverently caressed the Rivaini's cheek, the rough padding oddly endearing. Mouths remained fused, drinking in the other's presence and basking in the new knowledge of shared love. The kiss was everything it should have been and greatly overshadowed the many others shared between the two. This was no passionate coupling or frolic beneath the sheets; this was home, a refuge from the horrors of daily life.

Here, in Hawke's arms with her lips imprinted on her own and love smeared across her face, her very essence rife with it, Isabela knew she was complete. Her failed marriage, numerous couplings, and back-alley dealings meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. At the end of the day, no matter what they faced, she knew that her warrior, her hero, would be standing stalwart at her side. All-encompassing, never moving, unchangeable. And that was fine with her.

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